


When the Sun Reaches

by egoblow



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, body shame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egoblow/pseuds/egoblow
Summary: Nearly fifteen years has passed since Hanzo had last encountered the cowboy. Though Hanzo intends to avoid pursuing his personal desires, it would seem that life, and a particularly stubborn cowboy, is intent on proving that certain things cannot be avoided forever.---HIATUS





	1. Chapter 1

_Hot flesh seared his skin as calloused hands rubbing patterns along his chest. He responded by leaning forward suddenly in a move that caught the other by surprise. The other man grunted before moving in kind. Their bodies rolled, legs tangled in damp, sweat-drenched sheets in a battle for dominance. The other won, pressing his body down and grinding his hard cock against the other. The man’s head dipped, suckling marks against his neck before nipping into the soft flesh._

_“Goddamn, you’re a beaut,” He murmured against the crook, where strands of black hair clung._

_“Enough,” The response is the only warning before the sudden surge forward. The other grinned, victorious, before matching the marks on his own neck onto the man._

_The man chuckled, bringing up a hand to run it through his hair in an affectionate gesture._

_“I’m the luckiest goddamn man to have you.”_  
  
\---

He accepted his brother’s invitation towards redemption with determination, getting on the next flight available to Spain then the next to Gibraltar. It was a long flight that left him alone to his thoughts for far too long. He reconsidered upon each hour trapped in the plane, wondering if he had the courage to face his brother again. But the call for redemption spoke to him and reminded him of what remained in his life. 

Their clan was gone, dissolved since Hanzo had shirked his duties as its leader. The guilt of that fateful night had been too much for him to bear, too much to continue the traditions that had led him to such a fateful fight. With the clan gone, his time was either spent hunting down contract kills or avoiding the vengeful remnants of his clan. 

As the plane touched down on the tiny island, he steeled his resolve. There was no turning back now, and it was the least he could do to honor his brother's wishes. The least he could do after striking him down with such apathy. 

Yet, when he arrived, Hanzo took great efforts to avoid as many of his now colleagues. He met the core and by that, he allowed himself to introduce himself to the ape, the annoying Brit, and the blonde doctor. _Winston and Tracer, was it?_ And Angela, though he spent little time to get well acquainted with them.

He was not here for friendships or camaraderie. He came to honor his brother and to protect him from a second death. Protecting his brother, and perhaps giving his life for it, was the only visible path towards redemption. He had already brought his brother close to death once before so he would see to it from happening again. He would give his own life if only to see his brother grow old and die a painless death.

Anything beyond guarding his brother would only be a distraction. A nuisance. 

Yet, there was a presence. A presence that he noticed exactly three times throughout the day.

Once at dawn, a lone figure highlighted by the rising sun.

Second upon noon, under the shade of an old tree and alone with his hat tipped forward in sign of a midday sleep.

Third when the sun set and silhouetted his figure with a distinct bottle in hand.

The figure was all too familiar, fishing out long-suppressed memories. He did not come here for that, not here for his own wishes. Desires. He came to fight and to protect, and nothing more.

Yet, the figure was always there when the sun rose. An unavoidable sight when he ventured out of his room, intent on spending the early, quiet hours to train his body. The man would always be sipping from a mug alone, head turned away as he watched the day begin.

Hanzo would sometimes spare himself a moment or two to observe him, curious yet too afraid to approach. Memories of a long forgotten time threatened to re-emerge if he stared for too long. A time that he could not and would not relive. He only existed for redemption now and nothing more. It was through his selfishness that he found himself striking down his brother. Therefore, he promised himself to abstain from all greed.

 

* * *

 

At dusk, Hanzo returned from a grueling day of target practice. Again, the figure was there as Hanzo made for his room. The figure, topped by a ridiculous cowboy hat, sat alone at the table in the kitchen, a cup in hand and a bottle of whisky set on the table. Hanzo was silent as he passed, using years of training to sneak by as though he was a mere ghost.

Yet years of training could not prevent an instinctive glance up. Soft brown eyes watched his shadow disappear into the night.

 

* * *

 

It was at noon, exactly at the point when the sun rose to its highest, that Hanzo learned that avoidance could never be forever. He intended for the shooting range with a quiver full of bows, but a voice called out to him before he could make it there.

“You look mighty fine with a beard, darlin'.”

Hanzo froze, trapped by the familiar voice. The gravelly, low rumble resonated in a way that sent chills down his spine. He turned his head, lifting a brow at the other man.

The cowboy remained in the safety of the shade, his hat tipped forward. Had he not spoken, Hanzo would have assumed him to be asleep.

“Thought you could avoid me forever, huh?” The other man continued, slowly rising from his spot under the tree.

“I do not know what you speak of,” Hanzo replied curtly, looking away to focus longingly on the distant target range.

The other man snorted as he lifted his hat off his head. He held it to his heart while offering a slight tip of his head. “You look different from when I last saw your face, but I’d know those sweet lips anywhere.”

Hanzo tensed at the comment. He regarded the man with narrowed eyes, hackles rising. A quick glimpse over the other's form wrought out the changes from the picture flung forward from his memories. He was thicker now, hard muscles filling out his form and-- Metal glinted in the bright sunlight. His eyes fixated on the metal arm and briefly thought back a pair of hands scalding him with their heated touch. “Last I saw you, you were a whole man.”

A pause hung in the air though the hat hung too low to expose much of the man's features. The other man lifted his hands in surrender, chuckling all the while though the sound felt hollow. “Easy there. No need to spear me with your barbs. Just wanted to say hello is all.”

“Then hello, and goodbye,” Hanzo responded before marching onward towards the shooting range.

“Now, now,” The cowboy called after him, jogging to catch up. “No need to act like such an ice queen, even after all these years. I only mean well.”

“Jesse--” Hanzo responded sharply before catching himself. He sucked in a deep breath before murmuring, “McCree.”

“Jesse is fine. I let anyone whose cock I’ve sucked to call me as such,” Jesse responded, head lifted enough for him to meet warm eyes that bore into him.

Hanzo growled out, “I’d rather you not bring up such things left long behind us.”

“Behind us? Thought that fucking I gave you would have left a bigger impression than that,” Jesse's gaze remained fixated on him, burning hotter than the high sun. 

“We were both different then,” Hanzo responded curtly as he entered the shooting range. He finally met the cowboy's gaze, face hardened into neutrality. “Now, if you would leave me be.”

“Aw shucks, honey, wounding me with those words. I ain’t changed a lick since then,” A thoughtful pause, “Though you’ve grown mighty handsome since I last saw you.”

Hanzo ruffled at that. He pulled out his bow, testing the string’s tautness before meeting Jesse's eyes. “Again, I am a different man now. I no longer entertain such frivolities.”

The cowboy sighed, looking partially defeated. “Don’t know what crawled up your ass since we last met. I'll leave you to your bow and arrows."

Jesse stepped back, expression thoughtful before offering, “Well, you know where to find me if you’re ever in need.”

With that, the cowboy retreated back towards the base with the bright red serape trailing behind him like a beacon.

Hanzo let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Intent on returning to his objective, he turned his gaze upon the first target. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, notched and loosed it.

And let out an aggravated growl as it missed its target completely.


	2. Chapter 2

_A chance. It was a chance to escape._

_And a test. A test from his father._

_Hanzo had been given a single plane ticket, one-way, straight to Las Vegas. Business, he had been told, an opportunity to prove himself to his father as both Shimada and successor._

_But Hanzo was wise for his age. Twenty-three years-old, and he knew that his father would never be so transparent as to simply ask him to oversee a new trade deal. It was important work, but there were many men who could easily handle it themselves._

_No, it was not a simple trade deal._

_The day of succession drew nearer as did the number of prescription bottles on his father's bedside table. His father's health waned and he could feel himself barreling forward towards a life of servitude to the Shimada name._

_Many would consider it a privilege, the ultimate reward, to sit at the head of Japan's most powerful Yakuza clan. Yet, Hanzo could not bring himself to consider it as such. He saw the bars on the cage, the life of serving the legacy of his fathers before him. His future held a singular, locked path, like a train held to its tracks._

_So the one-way ticket to America had come as a surprise to Hanzo. He shivered with his father's intense, thoughtful gaze on him, quietly reading him. His father had always been most talented at slipping into a person's mind and extracting every bit of desire and motivation a man held. Despite twenty-three years spent under such a scope, Hanzo had yet to find a way to fortify himself against such a skill._

_He knew his father had read into the way his eyes flickered with hope, the way his heart fluttered with excitement at the prospect of leaving Hanamura for once in his life. Sixteen years of intensive English lessons (in addition to Spanish, Chinese, and Korean), and Hanzo had never once been able to prove his language prowess._

_He remembered the way his father's eyes bore into him._

_It was a test. All a test under the guise of duty._

_Be given a taste of freedom, of a life Hanzo had always dreamed of, and prove himself to his father by willingly returning and locking himself in his cage._

 

* * *

 

Sweat beaded at his forehead. Hanzo spared a glance upwards, noting the bright blue of the sky without a hint of a cloud in sight. The sun beat down mercilessly, and it felt that much hotter on his perch on the roof.

"Status update, Hanzo," 76's voice rang in on his earpiece.

"No visible threats," Hanzo surveyed the land before him. The sparse landscape hid nothing from him, and he almost felt sorry for any unfortunate soul who would have to bypass their position.

"McCree?"

"All good here, boss," A thoughtful pause. "Between the sun and this, feeling 'bout ready to take a nap," The cowboy drawled. Had Hanzo not been able to see him in position, gun ready and guarded, he would have assumed the cowboy was doing just that.

76 didn't dignify such an answer with a response. The radio line fell into silence though Hanzo's eyes lingered on the cowboy. Between the hat and the serape, Jesse made quite the target.

"See something you like?"

Hanzo turned his head away, the distance doing nothing to soften the intensity of the cowboy's gaze. He grimaced, replying with a quick, "Nothing of note."

"Huh, s'pose there ain't much to me on the outside, but that's never stopped--"

"McCree! Mouth shut, gun aimed," 76 barked much to Hanzo's relief. But he didn't need to look to know that the cowboy still had his gaze fixed on him. It felt hotter than the sun, that pair of honey eyes regarding him with an intensity Hanzo hadn't felt since his father was still alive.

 

* * *

 

  
The mission had largely been a success. They had intercepted a Talon-affiliated group, taken back stolen materials, and had made it back to the plane all alive. Not entirely whole, however.

"It ain't a big deal," Jesse growled as he swatted 76 away. The older man grunted, stepping back and allowing Hanzo full view of mangled metal and sparks flying. They had missed his head, but had shot a hole straight through the palm of Jesse's prosthetic.

"Your call," 76 huffed, retreating back to the cockpit.

That left only Hanzo in the hangar across from Jesse. Hanzo kept his arms crossed against his chest, eyes closed and head lowered as if to feign rest. It would seem that he feigned it well enough as he heard the cowboy shift, muttering swears to himself as he laid down.

Hanzo kept his eyes closed, listening as Jesse fiddled with his arm. The prosthetic fell to the ground with a loud thunk, rolling until it almost touched Hanzo's feet. Jesse seemed too busy to grab it from where it fell, seemingly all of his energy going into a thunderous sigh. The sound was drenched in such exhaustion that Hanzo could not help himself from looking up.

Jesse was stretched out on the bench, his right hand thoughtfully rubbing where his left arm ended. There was a metal module sewn into his flesh, bared without a prosthetic to connect to. Hanzo had to wonder how many times Genji's body connected metal with flesh. He had to wonder if it hurt just the same, when metal was wounded.

The cowboy turned his head lazily, looking almost surprised when his eyes met Hanzo's. Jesse struggled with words before murmuring, "Sorry," and tugged his serape over the arm's end. The cowboy looked down, seemingly embarrassed, before his eyes settled on his prosthetic arm on the ground. He moved to get up, clearly pained by the movement.

"Stop."

The cowboy paused in his movement, curious.

"You will worsen your injuries like that." Hanzo's voice was neutral and even, betraying no emotion.

"But--" Jesse looked down at the prosthetic, inches from Hanzo's feet.

"It does not bother me," Hanzo stated firmly though he still reached forward to gingerly pick it up. He did his best to avoid any stray sparks before placing it on the space next to him.

"Not whole without it." The words came out softly, almost as if it was meant as a reminder to himself. Jesse crossed the space between them with some difficulty before grabbing his arm.

Without much thought, Hanzo reached up and grabbed the prosthetic just as Jesse began to lurch back towards his spot. The cowboy raised a brow, unsure of how to interpret Hanzo's action. They each held their ground, both gripping the twisted metal as their eyes locked. It tempted Hanzo to look away. These interactions were so unnecessary, so distracting, yet Hanzo could not help himself.

"It does not disgust me," Hanzo stated quietly before letting go of the prosthetic. "You should stop moving."

Jesse snorted, stepping back and settling on his own seat. "You said--"

"What I said was merely an observation and nothing more."

Again, Hanzo felt warm honey eyes roaming over his face in search of some sort of hidden answer. Hanzo held the gaze evenly, "We should both rest."

Jesse huffed before pulling his hat over his face. For once, the cowboy had no witty remark to make.

Hanzo closed his eyes. It would take some time before sleep overtook him. 

 

* * *

 

_Thick, plush lips framed by stubble wrapped around his length. It was almost criminal the way the other man moved, dragging his lips and swallowing more of his cock in a maddeningly slow pace. He was going to lose his mind, here, surrounded by neon lights that never slept._

_Eyes like honey locked onto his before he pulled his lips into what would have been a grin had he not had his mouth full. Hanzo grunted, unwilling to make much of a sound. He brought a hand to his mouth, clamping down on it as the other man began to bob his head--_

_\--Before he stopped, pulling off of his arousal with a resonant pop._

_"What are you--" Hanzo began, sounding rightfully insulted that Jesse would stop at such a moment._

_"Your hand," Jesse started before grabbing the one with a glaring imprint of teeth. He used Hanzo's hand to knock off the ridiculous cowboy hat on his head before burying it in his hair. The younger man took a moment, closing his eyes and leaning into the palm like some dog seeking affection from his master._

_Hanzo lifted a brow, curious as Jesse pulled his own hand away._

_"Your hand. Either in my hair or on the sheets," Jesse's warm, calloused hand gripped Hanzo's cock. Instinctively, Hanzo's once loose grip in the mop of brown hair tightened. The other man let out a soft groan, seemingly pleased by it._

_"Good. Wouldn't want ya biting your own hand off," Jessemurmured before effortlessly swallowing Hanzo's length in one graceful, swift movement._

_The Shimada cried out, this time not having the presence of mind to care that his father's men might hear._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love, everyone! I'm glad you all have enjoyed what I've written so far. I'm considering this a slow burn, but hoping these little pockets of flashbacks will help ease the impatience. 
> 
> Minor note: I went back and switched tenses. I'll be updating tags and doing minor editing as I go.


	3. Chapter 3

_Lazy mornings._

_The days spent in the desert heat of Nevada were the sweetest he ever woke to. Mornings spent curled up, body aching from some mid-sleep contortions and more from their nightly activities. The cowboy had a habit of wrapping his arms around him with his face buried in the crook of Hanzo's neck, breath warming the sensitive skin there._

_Hot. It was always too hot, even with the hotel room's AC blasted on high._

_Jesse burned him, his body like soft sand heated by the merciless desert sun. He loved it, couldn't get enough of it as Jesse would note anytime Hanzo tore away his clothes. He thrived on the heat, having always bemoaned the way his body ran cold._

_"You're like a desert skink tryna find the best rock to sunbathe on," Jesse had commented once when the sun had set and cold air blasted their sweaty body. A chill had set in, making Hanzo lay practically on top of the other man in an effort to absorb his heat._

_"Skink?" There was a touch of confusion to his voice. He was unfamiliar with the word._

_"Yeah, you heard me. Skink. Lil' lizard fellas always skitterin' around, looking for the nicest rock to sit on," Jesse replied, voice warmed by a fond smile. He hummed, before murmuring, "And I'm yer rock."_

_Hanzo snorted, rolling his eyes. He started to roll off before Jesse kept him in place, wrapping both his arms and legs around him. The cowboy snickered, leaning up to shower kisses on the man's neck._

_"You act like a fool for such a respected man of Deadlock," Hanzo huffed, tilting his head back to avoid the sloppy kisses._

_"Two things, sweetpea. One, ain't nobody joinin' Deadlock without bein' a fool. Two, sure as hell that none of your men know how much of a lil' slut you're acting like when you're with me. Can't I get a break too?" The cowboy murmured, nibbling on the soft skin of Hanzo's neck._

_Hanzo froze, mulling over words he knew held no ill intent. He forced himself off, rolling to the side until all he could see was the ceiling. "No one can know what happens behind these doors, Jesse."_

_The brunet sighed, turning on his side with his head propped up by his hand. "I ain't the type to kiss and tell," A pause, eyes roaming over the Shimada. He reached out to ruffle his hair. "My boss would beat my ass if he knew I was sleepin' with business."_

_Hanzo rolled his eyes, swatting away Jesse's hand. "Business," He huffed, eyes closing. With a hint of bitterness, "Our negotiations will not last forever."_

_The cowboy yawned, stretching his arms before rolling over, wrapping himself around Hanzo. "Mm, that don't mean a thing for us though," He pressed a kiss to Hanzo's collarbone. "Always wanted to get out. Explore some place that ain't dusty and hot. Your Hanamura place is nice and pretty, I hear."_

_Hanzo merely grunted to those words. Mentioning Hanamura had sucked all words into a void with the sudden threat of his father's impenetrable gaze wrapping around his thoughts like a vice._

_Jesse looked up, curious, before yawning once more and settling. "C'mon, get some rest," He murmured, resting his head against Hanzo's chest._

_Hanzo remained awake with his gaze burning a hole into the ceiling, feeling the cowboy grow heavy with sleep on top of him._

_When the cowboy would wake that next morning, he would be left shivering under the blast of freezing air and an empty bed._

* * *

 

The morning after their mission found Hanzo exhausted as he trudged towards the kitchen. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. It was the same time he started his day as any other, yet his mind felt foggy.

He hadn't slept very well.

A dream had invaded his sleep. It was an unusual occurrence for Hanzo normally never dreamed of anything when he rested. He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he waited for his water to boil. It would not account for the restless sleep, but it felt good to fall back into a sleepy daze.

_The scratch of a beard rubbing against his chest._

_A strong hand gripping his hair._

_Calloused fingers running up and down his length._

"Will you make a cup for me as well, brother?"

Hanzo startled, ashamed for gasping and allowing himself to be surprised. It took a moment to get his bearings before he frowned, catching himself in the reflection of Genji's armor. He looked away sharply as tinny laughter rang through the dimly lit kitchen.

"Did you not sleep well, brother?" Genji asked, looking him over. He even leaned in, poking a metal finger at Hanzo's cheek. "You do not look well."

Hanzo swatted away the hand and grunted when his flesh met unyielding metal. Genji tilted his head before pulling back.

"Do not concern yourself with my well-being," Hanzo muttered as he turned to the cabinets. He pulled two mugs out before reaching in deeper to pull out a small box stashed away in the very back.

"Gyokuro? Ah, brother, you have been hiding this from me all this time?" Genji snatched the box away from him, gleefully opening it and holding it up to his metal mask to inhale the medicinally sweet scent.

Hanzo cocked his head, the sight so like the brother he knew. He couldn't help staring, feeling his heart ache as he recalled a time back in Hanamura. A time when they were both too young to realize the severity of their futures. Back then, the worst thing to ever come between them would be Genji stealing his sweets as he did now.

"I have more that I brought from Hanamura," Hanzo sighed, reaching out and taking the box back. He hesitated before offering, "You are welcome to it at any time."

Genji shook his head, a smirk to his voice though Hanzo could not see it behind the metal mask. "I rather you make it for me, brother. I would ruin the leaves if I did it myself."

A snort. "You always used water far too hot for tea."

Genji hummed, taking a seat on the kitchen counter with legs swinging. "I prefer coffee now. With three cubes of sugar and cream until it's white. But I would never reject a chance to taste gyokuro tea made by your hands."

Hanzo rolled his eyes, turning off the stove. He carefully spooned some of the gyokuro leaves into a strainer. "That sounds disgusting."

Genji laughed, "Jesse says the same. He says a real man drinks his coffee unsweetened and black."

Hanzo stilled, feeling his heart skip a beat at the mention of the man. It was inevitable that Genji and Jesse would know each other, considering the small size of their group, but he had not expected to hear the fondness in his brother's voice. It was clear, even with the electronic hum. He felt a tightness in his chest, wondering just how close his brother was to the cowboy. And he had to wonder... Did Genji know the history between himself and Jesse?

Genji tilted his head to one side. "Brother, your mind seems to be in another place. What bothers you?"

"It is nothing," Hanzo replied stiffly, pouring water over the tea leaves. He dared not look at Genji, keeping his focus on preparing the tea. Hesitation tightened his throat before he murmured, "Is he your friend?"

"He?" The bright green gaze shined on him before laughter softened the look. "Jesse? Indeed, he is a friend. We have trusted each other with our lives since Blackwatch."

Hanzo set the water kettle slowly back onto the stove. Blackwatch. He knew the name from some documents he had read on his plane ride here, but little else of what they did. Suddenly, all that he did not know about his brother felt like a suffocating weight. Genji was unrecognizable with his new, cybernetic body, even moreso without all of the anger and resentment that once drove the rift between them. The fact that Hanzo barely knew anything of his brother's current life and relationships made the weight sink deeper.

He grimaced, stirring the leaves in the steaming water to occupy himself. "There is much I do not know of you."

Genji jumped down from his seat. He leaned against the counter, watching Hanzo. "For now that is. We have time to re-acquaint ourselves with each other," With that, he reached up and mussed up Hanzo's hair. Instinctively, Hanzo swatted at it, allowing Genji the opportunity to steal one of the mugs and retreat to a seat at the table.

Hanzo remained silent as he fixed his hair, smoothing out stray bumps that Genji had pulled. He froze as his brother undid his mask, unashamed as he set it to the side to sip at the tea. Thick scars marred his face, a face that had once wooed all of Hanamura. His eyes trailed over the old wounds, guilt gripping his heart.

Genji met his gaze evenly and offered a small smile. His voice was soft, gentle, aware of the sudden vulnerability. "Thank you, brother. You make it just as Mother did."

Hanzo looked downward, unsure of what to say to that. The sight of his betrayal was still too much for him to bear, and for that, he was a coward. He did not have the bravery to even look at his own doing. 

Genji hummed, his voice light as he commented, "Jesse says scars are a good look on a man. It is--" Genji waved a hand casually, "Distinguishing as he says."

Hanzo's throat was tight as he murmured, "You must think highly of him." It seemed like an ironic twist of fate for the two people he had wounded the most to have comforted each other. 

Genji hummed, considering the statement. He nodded before adding, "He thinks highly of you too, brother."

The older Shimada looked up, unsure of how to interpret such a statement. His heart pounded for a moment, wondering if and how many intimate details Genji knew of that summer in Las Vegas. Anxiously, he sipped at his tea, absently noting that it had gone cold. 

"I hope you will grow to like him, brother," Genji spoke softly. "It would make me happy if you were not alone. And Jesse-- He is a good man. Bad fashion, but a good man nonetheless."

Hanzo looked him over, noting the innocence in Genji's gaze. Perhaps... Perhaps he did not know after all.

Softly, he promised. "I will try."

* * *

 

_The man was a joke. Leather chaps, spurs, and a ridiculous cowboy hat to top it off... Was this seriously the man he would have to negotiate an arms trade with?_

_It was almost offensive the way the man swaggered in, lit cigarillo hanging off his lips, and offered a cheery "Howdy!" despite being half an hour late. His first chance negotiating an overseas trade deal and it would be with this joke?_

_At least the man looked stupid. Hanzo almost felt sorry for the man, knowing how easily he would tip the deal in the Shimada's favor. He smirked as the cowboy sat down across from him. They were both alone, their respective men outside the room should anything go wrong._

_"You are late," Hanzo remarked._

_"And yer awfully pretty for someone in this ugly business," The cowboy grinned, emphasizing the words with a wink._

_A tanned, calloused hand reached out for his._

_"The name's McCree."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support!
> 
> Pardon the lack of anything too explicit, but it felt right to have some brotherly bonding time.


	4. Chapter 4

_Las Vegas._

_Gaudy, neon lights and an endless cascade of noise assaulted his senses. Drunken crowds surged through the busy sidewalk, jostling him around and never bothering to apologize. A small gap by a corner offered him refuge that he quickly took, leaning his body against the glass window of some awful-looking shop._

_Hanzo took in a deep breath, calming himself and trying to his bearings. After a certain point, the neon signs and blinking lights blurred together into indistinguishable uniformity. Was this what his father wanted him to see? Such a blatant, awful display of excess? Loud, shrieking men and women flaunting their fleeting wealth... It made his head throb._

_He hated it._

_Hanamura would be a much welcomed relief once their trade deal was set. The quiet, natural beauty called to him like a siren's song in this sea of flashy displays._

_Rubbing his face, he decided to concede for the night. He had snuck out from his room to explore the city, but a silent night reading in the solace of his room seemed much preferable. Disappointment settled in his gut as he realized that reality did not live up to expectations. America, a place he had hoped to explore his freedom in, would not offer the excitement and joy he had imagined that it would._

_"Your daddy don't give you much of an allowance or somethin'?" A familiar voice chuckled, dangerously close to him. "Don't see why else you'd be standin' at one of the busiest corners 'round here."_

_Hanzo jumped back, hand skimming the handle of the combat knife he had hidden by his hip, covered by his suit jacket. His traditional clothes had been abandoned in favor of a dark suit. It helped him blend in, yet another businessman looking to lose some money._

_"I do not take kindly to those who follow me," Hanzo growled._

_The idiot cowboy stood before him, wearing that same shit-eating grin he wore during the entire length of their meeting. He held his hands up with a mock innocent expression. "Just came to ask if my assistance was needed, sweetpea. It'd look mighty bad on me if anythin' bad happened to my guest of honor."_

_Jesse lowered his hands under the withering glare that met him. He sighed, deciding to change his tactic. "Look, no need to be hostile. I was just passin' by and you seemed like a lil' hatchlin' lookin' for its ma."_

_The glare intensified before Hanzo slowly eased his hand away from his knife. "I was merely returning to my hotel."_

_"Yeah? And where's that?" The cowboy gambled, mischief lighting up his eyes._

_Hanzo mentally retraced his steps before lifting a finger, pointing it north. Jesse shook his head, chuckling. "Damn, was hopin' you'd guess wrong."_

_"Is there something you want, Mr. McCree?" Hanzo enunciated each word sharply._

_"Please, call me Jesse."_

_"I do not think it would be wise for us to remove ourselves from formalities," Hanzo's words elicited a barking laugh._

_"God, uptight aren't you?" Jesse stepped in, smirking. "Were you lookin' to explore the city?"_

_Hanzo froze, caught. He straightened his posture, surveying Jesse carefully. "I did and found it to be a garish, awful place."_

_Jesse grinned, "It ain't that bad if ya go 'round with me. All these tourists traps guarantee nothin' good." The cowboy held out a hand, offering Hanzo to take it. "C'mon, consider it Southern hospitality."_

_The hand looked like a trap. Hanzo's thoughts swam in paranoia, wondering if this was some sort of ploy by Deathlock. A foolish move, certainly, for some small-fry gang to take on the Shimada Clan, but they were in America, not Japan. It would not be unimaginable with their home advantage._

_"Look, I know what you're thinkin', but I promise s'not that," Jesse's voice had softened with sincerity. "My boss would whoop my ass if he knew what I was up to, but I'm a sucker for fine-lookin' men like yourself."_

_Heat rushed to his cheeks and the tip of his ears. He growled, a rush of panic flowing through him at the thought that his most intense, secret desires had been uncovered. "What are you implying about my character?"_

_"Nothin'. Just sayin' that I'd appreciate a night lookin' at your pretty face without havin' to worry about numbers," The cowboy caught his eyes, speaking directly to him. "Besides, you don't look like the type to get out much."_

 

* * *

 

The sun had softened its glare as the strength of noon had passed. Hardly a cloud floated in the sky to sweeten the sunny day, but it was perfect under the shade of the lone, gnarled tree near the practice range.

Jesse's tree, he tended to call it. It seemed rightfully claimed by the man based on how frequently he saw him there. Hanzo approached it cautiously, each step heavier than the one before it. Apprehension riled his gut, unsure if he wanted to be here.

It was for Genji, he had to remind himself. And--

 _For you_. A little voice in the back of his mind added.

"Need somethin'?" The cowboy tilted his head, leveling Hanzo with a curious gaze.

Hanzo sighed, feeling like a fool for coming here. There were better things to do: laps he had to run, weights to lift, and targets to shoot at. Activities much preferable to talking to the cowboy.

He delayed conversation by slowly settling down on the patch of dirt next to Jesse. He made sure to keep enough space between them, even inching into the exposed sunlight. Jesse watched him, looking rather confused by the situation he now found himself in.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Jesse finally broke the ice, glancing at Hanzo.

Hanzo flicked to Jesse's left side, noting the way the serape hung loosely. The cowboy seemed to notice the gaze if the way he shifted his body and turned away from Hanzo was any indication. He cleared his throat, keeping his gaze on the distant practice range. "It is a common courtesy to check in on a colleague's status after injury," Hanzo murmured, body stiff and voice tense. He could feel hot eyes on him, trying to burn away the veneer of superficiality.

"Well, my prosthetic's fucked. Torby ain't comin' back for another week, meanin' I ain't seein' any action for another two weeks," Jesse sighed, idly rubbing the part where his arm ended. He glanced at Hanzo. "You're not the courteous type though. Somethin' else brought you here."

Hanzo snorted, knowing that very little slipped by the cowboy. He crossed his arms over his chest, mulling over words. "I did not realize that you were close with my brother."

"Genji?" Jesse smirked, fond. "Yeah, we've-- We've been through Hell and back together. Why? He put you up to this?"

"I came here of my own accord," Hanzo stated firmly. He bristled at the thought that he was fulfilling some sort of chore even if there was some truth to it. He sucked in a deep breath before continuing on. "Does he know?"

Hanzo didn't have to look to sense Jesse stiffen at the words. The cowboy was quiet as he pulled out a cigarillo. He fumbled around for his lighter before the gentle metal click greeted Hanzo's ears. Jesse puffed on the cigarillo, letting the tiny clouds of smoke obscure his face.

"'Bout Vegas?" Hanzo hazarded a glance in Jesse's direction. The dark honey eyes met his, trapping him. He could only nod, unable to vocalize as McCree stared him down. "Contrary to what you may think, I'm not the type to kiss 'n' tell."

"I was not sure wheth--" Hanzo started, but stopped as the other man waved his hand at him.

"Listen here, Hanzo. Vegas may not have meant much to you, but it did for me," McCree took a long, deep drag on his cigarillo before sighing out the smoke. "Somethin' as precious as that I keep close."

The cowboy stubbed the cigarillo out in the dirt before getting up. "Your secret's safe with me," His voice took on a bitter quality. "We can keep on pretendin' like we're as good as strangers, just the way you want it."

The spurs clinked softly as McCree walked away, leaving Hanzo alone to his thoughts beneath the gnarled tree.

 

* * *

 

_"Mm, gotta get lower. Like this," Jesse bent over the pool table, demonstrating by sinking close to the table's surface. He grinned up at Hanzo, having caught the way Hanzo's gaze skittered over his body._

_"I see," Hanzo murmured, ice cubes shifting as he tilted the glass back. Cool whiskey burned its way down his throat. He had protested the lack of sake, but found that he was starting to enjoy the extra bite to the liquor._

_"C'mon, try it," Jesse gestured to the table. Hanzo snorted, setting down the glass and approaching the table. He grabbed the cue stick from Jesse before bending over the table. The hair on the back of his neck raised, sensing Jesse's hungry gaze roam over his body. His lip twitched, the cowboy was truly transparent._

_"Nah, like this," Jesse crowded him, covering Hanzo with his own body. A thick, calloused hand covered his own while whiskey-warmed breath tickled his ear. "Gotta keep your grip nice 'n' firm or else your aim's shit."_

_Hanzo shuddered, excitement curling in the pit of his stomach from the weight of McCree's body over his own. Sensing his minor victory, he pulled away, smug._

_"Gotta shoot if we're gonna keep playin', princess."_

_Hanzo leveled a glare at Jesse though it only pulled a light chuckle from the man. The power of a normally cutting glare had been weakened by the flush coloring Hanzo's cheeks. He huffed, pulling back the cue stick before pushing forward. The balls scattered across the green fabric to the sound of Jesse clapping._

_"Ain't too shabby," The cowboy stepped forward, making his move with practiced ease. He took the glass before Hanzo could grab it before downing it all, lips pulled into a playful grin. The slight flush to McCree's cheeks and the loose swagger that he moved with were all signs pointing to how drunk the man was._

_Almost as much as Hanzo was._

_He had underestimated the strength of the whiskey so it had only taken two glasses before his graceful movements had turned clumsy. A woeful lack of judgement, his father would say, to get drunk with potential business partners. Enemies, potentially, if Deadlock decided to._

_But the easy smile and soft grip on his hand had made his defenses fall away as if they had been nothing, but paper walls._

_He would regret this. Perhaps not tonight or tomorrow, but he knew that his foolishness would have repercussions somewhere down the road. But for now, all he could think about was the way McCree's gaze feasted on his every move. There was no ill intent in that look, only something needier. Primal in its quality._

_"You will buy me another when I win this game," Hanzo challenged, his form a tad more exaggerated than it needed to be. McCree laughed, stepping in closer. His hand brushed over his lower back to his hip._

_"Don't let your arm stick out so much," Jesse's grip was gentle as he played with Hanzo's form, making micro-adjustments that were wholly unnecessary. Hanzo looked up at him, noting the way McCree's beard skimmed along his cheek when he moved his head._

_"One might think you are trying to sabotage my game, Jesse," Hanzo murmured lowly, eyes turning down to rest their gaze on McCree's lips._

_"Is that so?" Jesse replied, voice low and husky. A hand on Hanzo's hip idly rubbed circles into the little bit of skin exposed by his dress shirt._

_The two stayed like that for a moment, seemingly caught in a stalemate as they assessed each other. Finally, Hanzo broke the silence, too tempted by the draw of Jesse's lips._

_"Will you promise me two things, Jesse McCree?"_

_"You could ask the world of me 'n' I'd do it, darling."_

_"One, promise me that whatever happens between us remains a secret."_

_"Done."_

_"Two, promise me that we continue this night as only ourselves. No Deadlock, no Shimada, only--"_

_"Only us," McCree hummed, satisfied by the sound of it. He nodded, leaning in to close the space between them. Their lips met in a soft, cautious kiss as if to seal the promises._

_Hanzo broke away, nodding, "Only us."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank you all again for reading this. When the Sun Reaches is actually the first fanfic (or fic, for that matter) that I've written in a few years. I think the last time I wrote anything was almost before AOO even existed so it feels really great to be writing creatively again. I hope you all are enjoying this and my other McHanzo (supernatural) fic, Under the New Moon.


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